


Jim Kirk is an Earworm (Or, How Leonard McCoy Got His Groove Back)

by Savoytruffle



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savoytruffle/pseuds/Savoytruffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Jim Kirk is an earworm. He’s one of those annoying melodies that somehow gets stuck in your head, and you try and try to get rid of it, but just when you think you’ve finally succeeded, you find yourself belting it in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jim Kirk is an Earworm (Or, How Leonard McCoy Got His Groove Back)

**Author's Note:**

> After my recent, extended angst-fest, I decided a little rom-com one-shot was in order. Unbeta'd, so feel free to point out typos. General storyline and chunks of dialog lovingly borrowed from _Gilmore Girls_ , episodes 4.20 "Luke Can See Her Face" and 4.22 "Raincoats and Recipes," written by the wildly talented Amy Sherman-Palladino. Thanks to the lovely [](http://cordelianne.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cordelianne.livejournal.com/)**cordelianne** for the reading and encouragement.

“…there’s just this way that he _smiles_ at me that kinda makes me feel all melty inside. You know what that’s like, right?”

Leonard grunts.

Ensign Wong takes that as agreement. And encouragement to continue.

“And, like, engineers aren’t supposed to be romantic, you know, but I swear, I could listen to him talk about plasma and conduits for hours…”

Leonard’s fingers twitch around the hypospray of contraceptive in his hand. He loaded the damn thing about half an hour ago and would like nothing more than just to jam it into Ensign Wong’s neck and be done with this whole thing, but, contrary to the impression he’s worked hard to give Jim, Leonard does know the meaning of the words ‘bedside manner.’

Still, he thinks maybe he could jam the hypospray in his own eye and it might be less painful than this ‘consultation.’

The truth is, if Leonard could ever figure out how to get his patients to trust him with their medical care _without_ trusting him with the intimate details of their personal lives, he would. Unfortunately, the two seem to go hand in hand.

“…so, I mean, he’s cute and all, right? And I just think he’s really sweet. I mean, it’s also possible he’s a total jerk, but you know, I think Janna was just really mad when she said that, and…”

They live on a goddamn starship that’s floating out in the blackness. Their gravity is artificial. Their days and hours are the arbitrary imposition of the ship’s computer. They have a botany lab, but they have no seasons.

And yet…

Somehow…

Spring is in the air.

The fucking recycled air that Leonard is about one ‘consultation’ away from flooding with a prophylactic aerosol so he can lock up the sickbay and call it a day.

“…so I kinda think I should. I should, shouldn’t I? I mean, it just…it feels so _right_ , you know?”

Leonard _doesn’t_ know.

He forces something like a smile onto his face, nods, and injects the contraceptive. Gently.

Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs.

Leonard McCoy is not one of them.

 

 

The door to Leonard’s office chimes interrupting his well deserved break.

“Come,” he sighs.

Christine Chapel pops her head through the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, Doctor McCoy, but Ambassador Ciriclin is asking for you.”

 _What now?_ Leonard mouths.

Christine rolls her eyes and shrugs.

Leonard pushes himself back from the desk on another sigh and heads across sickbay. To top off the whole spring awakening, Leonard is playing medical babysitter to an alien dignitary who’s in the final stages of an asexual reproductive cycle.

He approaches her biobed and checks the readings. “Looking good,” he says. “How’re you feeling, Ambassador? Is there anything we can do to keep you comfortable?”

“I have not seen the captain in several hours,” she tells him.

“Well, ma’am, running the ship does tend to keep him pretty busy.”

Though, come to think of it, it’s nearing the end of alpha shift and it’s a rare day that goes by without Jim popping into sickbay for no goddamned reason whatsoever. In fact, the only time Jim _doesn’t_ pop into sickbay to pester Leonard is when he’s actually feeling under the weather and trying to hide it.

“Damn it, Jim,” Leonard mutters under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?” the Ambassador asks.

“Nothing,” Leonard says. “Let me just see if I can get the captain down here.” He pulls out his communicator. “McCoy to Kirk.”

_“Kirk here. What’s up, Bones?”_

“Just hoping you can stop by sickbay when you get a chance.”

_“Sure thing, Bones. Kirk out.”_

“I will be awaiting his arrival,” the Ambassador says.

Leonard decides that’s as close as he’s getting to a ‘thank you,’ nods, and starts to make the rounds of the rest of the patients.

 

 

Leonard is fetching a pain killer from the pharmaceutical closet when Jim finally arrives. He heads straight for where Leonard is standing, which is probably a good sign, but Leonard scans him with narrowed eyes just to make sure.

“What’s up, Bones?” Jim asks. “You checking me out?”

“Medically.”

Jim smirks. “Well, that’s no fun.”

“You’ve been avoiding sickbay,” Leonard says.

“No, I haven’t,” Jim retorts, far too quickly.

Leonard frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Jim holds up his hands. “Nothing, Bones, I swear.”

“Jim…”

“Would I lie to you?”

“If you thought it would help you avoid a hypospray, yeah.”

Jim’s eyes dart around and he lowers his voice. “Look, it’s not you, okay. It’s just even though the Ambassador’s reproduction cycle is asexual, it apparently triggers a biological urge to—”

“Captain!” the Ambassador calls. “There you are!”

Jim shoots Bones a frightened, pleading look before pasting on a smile and turning toward the Ambassador’s biobed. “Ambassador Ciriclin, it’s so nice to see you. I trust the staff here is treating you well?”

He walks over to her and Leonard follows at a distance. Jim stops just out of the ambassador’s reach.

“My basic needs have been met,” the Ambassador confirms. “I had, however, hoped to have more time to converse with you. To compare our cultures and…customs.”

“Oh, gosh,” Jim says, “me, too. It’s just things around the ship have been so busy these past couple of days. You know, a captain’s work is never done.”

“Surely even the captain must be given some time for rest and recreation. I understood that such things are quite important to human well being.”

“Uh huh, right you are!” Jim fakes a short laugh and reaches a hand behind himself, using it to gesture Leonard closer.

Leonard takes a few hesitant steps and as soon as he’s within reach, Jim wraps a hand around his and tugs him flush against Jim’s back.

It’s an awkward position and Leonard moves to put a bit of space between them, but Jim is holding him tight and pulling Leonard’s arm forward so that it wraps halfway around Jim’s waist.

“But those of us in serious, committed relationships must spend a lot of that free time with our loved ones,” Jim continues. “It’s only customary, especially in a busy environment like this. Gotta get some good old quality time in, isn’t that right, sweetie?”

It takes a well placed heel mashing into Leonard’s foot for him to realize that Jim’s talking about him.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Leonard stutters.

Jim’s smile widens. “Bonesy hates it when I neglect him.”

 _Bonsey?_ Leonard is unable to keep a grimace from his face.

Jim uses it.

“Don’t worry, babe, I promised I’d be back in our quarters in time for dinner tonight, just the two of us, and I’ll make sure it happens if I have to fight off a hoard of Klingons myself.”

“I…uh…”

“Sometimes it’s hard for him to trust my promises,” Jim leans forward to confide in the Ambassador. “He’s been burned before. But still he puts up with me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jim looks away from the ambassador and into Leonard’s eyes. Jim’s eyes ask for a kiss to really sell the whole thing.

Leonard’s eyes tell Jim to go peddle his goods elsewhere.

Jim looks disappointed. “Anyway, sweetheart, I guess I’d better let you get back to work.” Jim looks at the ambassador again. “He’s such a brilliant doctor, always taking care of me.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to examine this one’s head,” Leonard says, because at least that’s true. As is: “You’re right, I’d better get back to it. This place doesn’t run itself. Ambassador, Captain.” He nods to each of them as he extracts himself from Jim’s arms and from the situation.

He’s a doctor, not a beard.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s really not Leonard’s day.

Hell, he can’t say as it’s been his week.

In fact, the whole month has pretty much been a wash, but this really is the final straw. As soon as the comm connection is severed, he taps the bottom door of his desk. It slides open with a soft swish, revealing a bottle of bourbon and a lowball glass.

Leonard pulls them both from the drawer and pours himself a healthy drink.

Well, a healthy portion of drink, anyway.

He’s less than halfway through the glass and thinking about tossing the rest back so he can relocate to his quarters when the universe decides he hasn’t quite suffered enough and delivers him Spock.

Leonard could try just not letting him in, but that’s never really worked in the past. Sometimes ‘logic’ looks a lot like good ol’ mule-headed stubbornness.

“Come,” Leonard sighs.

The doors slides open and Spock steps through, taking a few steps toward Leonard’s desk before stopping in his usual parade rest. “Good evening, Doctor.”

“Spock,” Leonard acknowledges with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

Spock’s gaze falls to the bottle and glass gracing Leonard’s desk. “It is against regulations to be drinking alcohol while serving in your professional capacity,” he notes.

“I’m off duty,” Leonard says.

“And yet you are still sitting in the office assigned to you as Chief Medical Officer,” Spock points out.

“So, what? You came all the way down here because your super Vulcan senses told you I was behaving less than admirably and wanted to tattle?” Leonard takes another long drink just for spite. “Trust me, it’s nothing Jim hasn’t seen before.”

“Be that as it may—” Spock begins.

“Fine,” Leonard says, not in the mood to spar. “Consider me suitably chastised. I was just on my way back to my quarters anyway. I’m still allowed to drown my sorrows there, right?”

Spock nods. “If you must.”

“Oh, I must,” Leonard assures him. “Just got off the comm with my ex-wife.”

Spock considers this. “I was given to understand that the two of you had become friends again, putting an end to the intense animosity that characterized the dissolution of your marriage and the four years that followed.”

Leonard frowns at Spock. “You and Jim have been discussing my personal life?”

“The captain and I discuss a great many things.”

Leonard snorts. “You ever discussed the importance of minding your own business?”

“Indeed, we have not.”

Leonard sighs. “How one person can be so easy and so difficult to argue with at the same time is truly beyond me.”

“If you could clarify – are you referring to your ex-wife?”

“I’m referring to _you_ , you logic-addled busybody. My ex and I are getting along just fine.”

“And yet communicating with her has, as you say, driven you to drink.”

Leonard resigns himself to providing an explanation. He supposes he needs to talk about this with someone and Spock is as good as — well, Spock is here, anyway.

“We didn’t fight,” Leonard says. “She just had some news for me, is all.”

“And you were displeased by this news?” Spock infers.

“Well, not displeased so much as…” Leonard trails off for lack of any actual idea what he’s feeling. “She’s getting remarried.”

“And you find this announcement…troubling,” Spock suggests.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean…” Leonard looks up at Spock still standing at parade rest and rolls his eyes. “Well, sit down if you’re staying.”

Spock sits.

“It was just unexpected, I guess,” Leonard continues. “I wasn’t…expecting it.”

What Leonard does expect is an obnoxiously uninflected crack about the tautological nature of that statement, but it never comes.

“Perhaps you are experiencing jealousy,” Spock conjectures. “I believe it is not uncommon among humans to fail to appreciate the importance of those whose affection they possess until those people have withdrawn such affection or are no longer in close proximity.”

“You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone,” Leonard summarizes dryly, almost by habit at this point. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I don’t want Joce back. We were no good together. We communicate better now light years apart than we did during most of our marriage. Plus, she wants me to come and stay with Joanna for almost three weeks while she and Clay go on their honeymoon. She even scheduled the wedding and honeymoon for my shore leave.”

Spock nods. “She has shown you consideration as a sign of respect and a gesture of friendship.”

“Exactly. It’s just…it’s like she’s moving on, you know?”

Spock blinks. “I do not yet know, though I am endeavoring to comprehend. Perhaps you wish for her still to desire you even though you no longer desire her? It is illogical, but you _are_ human.”

“Bite me,” Leonard mutters. “And, no, that isn’t it. It’s just…she’s been out there, looking around, finding herself someone new. She’s taking a second shot at happiness and what am I doing?”

“You are the chief medical officer of the _USS Enterprise_. It is a position of great esteem amongst your peers.”

Leonard sighs, picks up his drink and finishes it off. “A man can’t survive on esteem alone, Spock.”

Spock considers this for a moment. “Then perhaps it is time to get, as you say, ‘out there.’”

Leonard snorts. “It’s been so long, I’m not sure I remember how.”

As usual, Spock takes the comment far too literally. “The ship’s computer holds an extensive library of texts, holovids and audio files dedicated to instruction on both inter- and intra-species social interaction.”

“Self-help?” Leonard scoffs. “I really don’t think I’m the type. I’m too old. And too bitter.”

“You have only lived one-quarter of your projected lifespan as a Terran human,” Spock corrects, “and I find your disposition…unexpectedly stimulating.”

“Spock,” Leonard asks slowly, “are you hitting on me?”

Spock blinks again. “After conducting a series of controlled experiments during my time at Starfleet Academy, I have concluded that I possess little to no interest in the human penis.”

Now there’s an image Leonard may never get out of his head.

His glass is empty, so he takes a quick swig straight from the bottle. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

 

 

When Leonard walks into Sickbay the next morning, he heads straight for the pharmaceutical closet. He loads a hypospray with his favorite hangover cure and applies it to his own neck with a practiced hand.

Christine gives him a look as he emerges.

“Had a comm with the ex last night,” Leonard says. “She’s getting remarried.”

Christine gives him no further grief, simply hands him a PADD with the day’s schedule, lays a gentle hand on his forearm for a brief moment, and then goes on about her business.

Predictably, Leonard spends the morning doling out prophylactics, curing STIs, and confirming the results of home pregnancy tests. Also predictably, very few of these appointments proceed with the discretion, professionalism, and all around silence Leonard would prefer.

When images of tiny cupids start to dance in front of Leonard’s eyes – images that include Leonard’s disembodied hands slowly but surely wringing their chubby, cherubic little necks – he decides it’s time for a break.

He closes himself in his office and settles back in his chair. “Computer,” he says. “Play ‘Leonard McCoy – recent playlist.’” Leonard recently downloaded some Andorian jazz fusion that he finds quite relaxing.

A chime sounds. _“Welcome,”_ says a calm male voice, _“my name is Doctor Enders Orlov and you are taking your first steps on the_ Pathway to Love _.”_

Leonard blinks, confused. This is definitely not Andorian jazz fusion.

 _“In ten easy sessions,”_ Orlov continues, _“I’ll help you learn to create intimacy and transform your relationships through self-discovery.”_

All at once, previously forgotten pieces of the previous night flash through Leonard’s brain.

Drunken moments in which Spock’s advice had popped unbidden into Leonard’s mind and mysteriously seemed _wise_.

Minutes spent browsing through love and relationship self-help titles on the computer’s library, at the end of which he apparently settled on _Pathway to Love_.

Voice slurring as he asks the computer to download the file to his personal playlist and then seals any record of his action with the highest level of medical clearance available without the confirmation of a second doctor, the captain, or a member of the admiralty.

 _Shit_ , Leonard thinks. “Computer…” he begins.

 _“You may not believe that you deserve love,”_ Orlov is saying, _“or maybe you think something is fundamentally wrong with you, that love will always remain beyond your reach…”_

Okay, yeah, it is possible that the description sounds a little familiar.

_“…but this isn’t true. The fact that you’re listening proves that you are ready for a change. And you can change. Anyone—”_

Another chime sounds, only this time it’s the door to Leonard’s office.

 _Shit._ “Computer,” Leonard says in a harsh, hurried whisper, “terminate playback.”

The room falls silent.

“Come,” Leonard says.

Jim saunters in. “Hey, Bones, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Leonard says, eyes shifting about. “Why?”

Jim laughs. “Are you watching porn in your office again? I’ve told you I don’t mind.”

“That wasn’t porn, Jim. It was a medical training module.”

“I don’t know,” Jim shrugs, “it was pretty hot.”

Leonard sighs.

“Well, if you’re not watching porn,” Jim sidles over to Leonard’s desk to sneak a peek at his screen, “what are you doing?”

Thankfully, all the screen shows is his daily task and appointment calendar.

“Nothing,” Leonard repeats. “Like I said. Did you have a reason for coming here? I mean, beyond your usual boredom-triggered program of annoyance and harassment.”

“Aw, whatever,” Jim says, hopping up on Leonard’s desk and swinging his legs, “you miss me when I don’t show.”

“I don’t miss you,” Leonard says, “I worry. Because I know that when you’re not coming here you’re usually up to no good.”

Instead of laughing this off like he normally would, Jim frowns. “I’m not actually a child, you know. I am, in fact, capable of a high level of responsible behavior. Rumor has it I somehow even manage to captain Starfleet’s flagship.”

“Jim, don’t be—”

“And as captain, I’m not only responsible for myself, but for my entire crew, which is why I like to do things like pay regular visits to my rather grumpy, but extremely competent CMO and make sure he’s remaining in good spirits, even though I know he gets lonely sometimes and misses his daughter and solid ground.”

“Jim, I didn’t mean—”

“But, hey, seems like you’ve got things under control here, Doctor McCoy, so I’ll just quit _harassing_ you and leave you to your work.”

“Jim, wait—”

But before Leonard can finish his sentence Jim is gone.

 

 

 

Leonard makes a plan to finish his shift and then apologize to Jim over dinner. They eat together more often than not and Leonard texts Jim asking that they keep the standing date.

Jim agrees, if curtly.

Of course, before dinnertime actually comes around, crisis strikes and it’s all senior hands on deck all the way through the ship’s night and about half of the next day. By the time they get Spock’s consciousness out of Scotty’s body and back into Spock’s, everyone is exhausted and ordered to rest.

(Though some interesting engineering improvements do come out of the whole debacle.)

His sleep schedule completely fucked, Leonard finds himself well rested and wide awake in the middle of the ship’s night, with almost five hours until his Alpha shift. He turns on his PADD and requests a readout of Jim’s biosigns. It’s probably an abuse of power, but it’s not like he isn’t within protocol to assess the captain’s stress level following a major incident.

Jim’s stress level is fine.

But more importantly, Jim’s not sleeping anymore either.

Leonard slips on some clothes and shoes and makes his way down the hall to the captain’s quarters. As expected, Jim answers the door chime immediately and Leonard enters to find him seated at his desk looking at engine schematics.

“Hey, Bones,” Jim says, quietly, all traces of bitterness gone.

“Hey, Jim. I’m sorry about the other day. You’re a great captain and everyone on this ship knows it, including me. You proved yourself last night and last crisis and the crisis before that.” _And you’re the only one I’d ever have trusted enough to come out here into the black_ , Leonard doesn’t add.

“Thanks,” Jim says, “but we’re cool. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not cool, Jim. I shouldn’t have made you feel like…” Leonard trails off.

“Want some coffee?” Jim asks.

Leonard nods and Jim goes to the replicator to get them a couple cups.

“It’s fine, Bones, seriously. I wasn’t even annoyed at _you_. Not really. I’d just gotten this communiqué from the admiralty in which they implied that my handling of the Palaisi incident was rash and immature and let me know they’d be keeping an eye out for any more screw-ups.”

“The Palaisi incident?!” Bones repeats, incredulous. “We’re damn lucky any of us got out alive, let alone all of us. They weren’t there. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. Goddamn desk jockeys.”

Jim smiles. “Thanks, Bones.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I overreacted. You were just being you, you know? You’re gruff and grumpy and it doesn’t mean you don’t care, it’s just like your natural state.”

Leonard gives a wry smile and a nod of agreement, but on the inside he’s remembering his younger days and those first couple of years with Jocelyn. His humor may have been a bit on the dry side, but he’d laughed easily and almost always had a ready smile.

 _Gruff and grumpy_. It’s not like he doesn’t know that’s the image he projects to the world, but he’s starting to wonder if there’s anything natural about that state at all.

 

 

 

When Leonard heads back to his own quarters, he’s still got almost two hours before shift.

He showers and gets into uniform.

He eats breakfast and has some more coffee.

He tidies up a bit.

Finally, he looks around just to make sure no one has entered his quarters when he wasn’t looking, then takes a seat at his small desk.

“Computer,” he says, “resume playback of _Pathway to Love_.”

 _“Love!”_ Orlov exclaims.

Leonard spills his coffee. “Fuck!”

 _“You want it?”_ Orlov continues, _“You can have it. And not compromised, stifling, soul-killing love, but open, honest, life-affirming love. But how do you get it? How do you get this love?”_

“If I knew that,” Leonard mutters, “what the hell would I need you for?”

_“It's going to take work. It's going to take introspection. You're gonna have to learn new things – how to be your own best friend; how to treat your damaged psyche with a little kindness; how to say, ‘Hey, pal, you're worth it. You mean something to someone, and you deserve love.’ That is the key. If you crave love, then you deserve love. Say that to yourself: ‘If I crave love, I deserve love.’”_

Leonard’s sigh is, at least, heartfelt.

_“Now, how did that feel coming out? I'll bet it was hard. I'll bet you felt ridiculous. Some of you may not even have been incapable of saying it at all. Try again.”_

“I'm not incapable,” Leonard tells Orlov. “I just haven't been dosed with cupid pollen lately.”

(Oh, no, that particular disaster was about six months ago, and Leonard had fortunately been spared. Well, spared the infliction, if not the joy of listening to the inflicted.)

_“Trust me, my friend – it will get easier. Until one day, you turn around, and you are not alone. Ready to begin the journey? It's going to be one hell of a ride. Okay, let's go. Pull up your workbook and start at page one.”_

Leonard rolls his eyes as he picks up his PADD and stylus. “It doesn't get lower than this.”

 

 

 

Basically, Leonard hates Doctor Enders Orlov. In fact, Leonard doubts very much that Orlov actually possesses even a real human doctorate, let alone a genuine medical degree.

Leonard, of course, has both.

Which is how he knows all this self-help malarkey is bullshit. Which is why Leonard plans to listen to the whole damn recording from start to finish. Because when his love life fails to get one iota better, he’ll have definitive proof of Orlov’s quackery.

Hell, maybe he’ll publish a nasty article. Or at least a scathing book review.

“Ow!” says Ensign Mensa, reaching up to rub her neck. “Is it supposed to hurt that much?”

Leonard looks down at his white-knuckled grip on the hypospray and feels a twinge of guilt. (Jim’s the only patient where he sometimes tries to make it sting a bit – object lessons and all.)

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Must be a faulty unit. Let me grab a new one before I administer your other dose.”

Leonard turns around so that he’s blocking the ensign’s view and then loads the very same unit with Mensa’s anti-depressant. He turns back around, picks a new spot on her neck, and administers the dose the way he’s been trained – painlessly.

“Much better,” Mensa says. “Thanks, Doctor McCoy.”

“No problem.”

Once Mensa’s gone, it time for lunch break. Jim being otherwise occupied, Leonard takes it in his office. Sitting down in front of his sandwich and salad, Leonard orders the computer to start Orlov up where he left off that morning.

_“Complete the following sentences: I feel angry because...”_

“I am listening to this recording,” Leonard supplies.

_“I feel hopeful because...”_

“This recording must end eventually.”

_“I feel helpless because...”_

“Computer,” Leonard asks, “is there anything more painful you can do to this recording than just halting playback?”

 _“I do not understand the nature of your question,”_ the computer says.

“Yeah,” Leonard huffs, “you wouldn’t.”

 

 

When lunch break is finally over, Leonard takes a few deep breaths to make sure he won’t displace his aggression onto any other patients. It’s possible that Orlov’s voice isn’t the best thing for him to be listening to at work, but the sooner the man is debunked, the sooner Leonard can go back to living his miserable life in peace.

 

 

Leonard is in his office, finishing his shift with some boring but necessary paperwork, when Spock appears without warning. Leonard starts as he looks up at the door and finds Spock standing there.

“Jesus,” Leonard says, “make some noise, would you?”

“In childhood, Vulcans are trained in economy of movement, with the goal of causing the least possible amount of disruption to their surroundings while remaining within the parameters of their task.”

Leonard snorts. “You people ever heard of _play_?”

Spock does not dignify the question with a response. “I have come to inquire as to the evolution of your feelings about yourself in light of the remarriage of your former wife.”

Leonard blinks. “You have?”

Spock nods. “I am given to understand that friends are expected to ‘follow up’ with each other after conversations of emotional weight.”

“Well,” Leonard says, “I suppose they are.”

Spock raises an eyebrow and waits.

“Um…I’m doing fine, I guess.” Leonard fumbles for something more substantial to say. “I, uh…well, actually, I took your advice.”

“You are ‘getting out there’?”

“Well, no, not yet, but I, uh, consulted the ship’s library and I’ve been listening to a…recording.”

“I see,” Spock says. “Are you finding it helpful?”

“Actually, it’s driving me crazy.”

Spock’s eyebrow twitches. “And yet you continue to listen to it?”

Leonard shrugs. “Well, only to prove that it’s all hogwash.”

“Fascinating,” Spock says.

 

 

Leonard meets Jim for dinner that night in the officer’s lounge.

“So,” Leonard says about halfway through the meal, apropos of nothing, “Jocelyn’s getting remarried.”

Jim nearly spits out his drink. “What? When?”

“When is she getting married or when did I find out about it?”

“Either,” Jim says, hands flailing. “Both!”

“Well, they’re doing it in three weeks, once we’re back on Earth. Joce wants me to take Jo while they’re on the honeymoon.”

“Well, that’s good I guess. Are you invited to the wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going?”

Leonard shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet. I go back and forth.”

“Which brings us back to the other question – when did you find out about this?”

Leonard shrugs again. “Last week,” he admits.

“Oh my god,” Jim says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Leonard says. “I guess I just needed time to think it over. I mean, I’d already talked it through with Spock so I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. You talked it though with _Spock_? _Spock_ Spock?”

Leonard snorts. “Don’t act so surprised – you’re the one who’s been giving him friendship training.”

“Well, yeah, it’s just…nevermind. Okay, so Jocelyn and Clay are getting hitched – what’s Jo-Jo think about that?”

“Well, I mean…” Leonard realizes he really doesn’t know. “It’s not like she hasn’t had time to adjust to Clay or anything…”

Totally serious is always a surprising look on Jim. “This is different,” he says. “Or at least it can be. This means it’s for real and that any other family she might have imagined isn’t going to be happening.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Leonard wonders what Jim used to imagine, but mostly he can’t believe he didn’t think to check in with Joanna first thing. “Shit,” he mutters, “I just didn’t…our next comm isn’t scheduled until Friday…”

“I can get you a priority channel in two hours,” Jim says. “You’ll just have to take it in my ready room.”

Leonard squeezes his eyes shut and breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Thanks, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But you…”

“No, seriously,” Jim says with a small grin, “don’t mention it. Starfleet hates preferential allocation of resources.”

 

 

Joanna, as it turns out, is basically okay. She says she’s glad to see her momma happy and that Clay treats her just fine. She also tells him that Clay hasn’t tried to take Leonard’s place or anything.

She doesn’t call him Daddy.

Leonard thinks it was worth the priority channel just to hear that.

 

 

As soon as Leonard gets dressed the next morning, he sits down with his oatmeal and his PADD and gets to work on his _Pathway to Love_ diagnostic test. As a trained medical professional, it’s hard not to think about what the ‘right’ answers would be, but he pushes himself to be honest.

With his score flashing in front of him, he tells the computer to resume audio playback.

 _“You're a route in need of some repair,”_ Orlov tells him. _“If your score is between 30 and 40 points, then you're a route laden with debris and you need better charting. And if your score is 40 or above, it's photon time because your route is impassable.”_

“Fantastic,” Leonard says.

 _“Chapter Seven,”_ Orlov announces. _“Listeners – a question: What is fantasy? The answer: Fantasy is the imaginative fulfillment of your heart's desire. And one of the most common fantasies for single humans is the fantasy of your ultimate companion.”_

“Yada, yada, yada,” Leonard mutters.

_“Story time: I had a friend – let's call him Phillip – who couldn't make up his mind amongst three different women that he liked. I developed a test for him...and for you.”_

Leonard rolls his eyes. “Oh, goody.”

_“Whose comms or visits are never unwanted or too long? Do you see a face? Who would you most like to have in your life to ward off moments of loneliness? Do you see a face? When you travel, who would make your travels more enjoyable? Do you see a face? When you're in pain, who would you most like to comfort you? Do you see a face? When something wonderful happens in your life – a promotion at work, good news from a relative – who do you want to share it with? Do you see a face? Whose face appears to you, my friend? Whose face?”_

“Shit,” Leonard breathes, because he _does_ see a face.

Jim’s.

 

 

Leonard starts spending every free minute listening to Dr. Orlov.

Which just happens to mean canceling a couple of meals with Jim.

Which _does not_ mean that Leonard is a big, fat chicken.

It just means he needs some time to think.

And maybe some time to plan.

 

 

“So wait,” Leonard asks, “if your superior office says she’s pleased with your work and you and your brother finally had that talk you needed to have, why are you avoiding the cargo bay again?”

Lieutenant Oke swings her legs over the edge of the biobed and looks away.

Leonard sighs. “No. Lindsay, still? I thought that was ancient history. You two broke up months ago.”

“I saw her in the gym a couple of weeks ago,” she admits.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Leonard asks. “So, what happened?”

Oke shrugs. “Nothing. I told her, uh...”

“What?” Leonard prompts as he picks up his PADD and tweaks a couple of her prescriptions.

Oke looks down at the floor. “I told her I loved her.”

“Whoa! What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

Leonard’s brow furrows. “What, you just said it and left?

“No. I had my mixed martial arts class. So I went.”

“You just dropped the bomb and ran?”

“I walked.”

“You didn't want stick around to see what she said?”

“No. And obviously, she had nothing to say.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s been seventeen days and we live on a _starship_. If she had something to say, she knows where to find me.”

“What are you talking about? You just said you’ve been avoiding her.”

Oke snorts. “The ball was in her court.”

Leonard shakes his head. “Oh, Abbi, come on. You did this completely wrong. Open two-way communication is the foundation of love, and you cut that off. I had this friend – let's call him Phillip – who thought expressing intimacy was a favor to his partner, but expressions of intimacy should be given freely and frequently. He loved Judy, but he used his love as a bargaining tool.”

Oke blinks. “Wait – who’s Judy?”

“Phillip's wife,” Leonard explains. “We call her Judy.”

“I wasn't bargaining,” Oke says.

Leonard snorts. “You were bargaining. You had expectations out of line with what you deserved. You don't nurture.”

“Where are you getting this stuff?”

Like Leonard’s going to fess up to that one. “Life,” he says. “I've lived.”

“When? In the late twentieth century?”

“I'm just offering some advice.”

Oke looks skeptical. “With all due respect Doctor McCoy, you’re not exactly known for your social skills.”

“Well,” Leonard says, “things change.”

Oke looks curious. “Oh, yeah?”

Leonard injects her with a hypo. “You’re good to go,” he says. “See you next week.”

 

 

 

“Hey, Bones.”

Leonard nearly falls off the treadmill.

Once he’s on solid ground and his headphones are out – with only what Leonard chooses to believe was a minimum of flailing – Leonard composes himself. “Hi, Jim.”

Jim looks worried. “Everything okay?”

“Sure, of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Leonard has no idea why he’s still speaking. “What are you doing here? I mean, um, besides going to the gym. Where you are. Now. With me. Right, so now that that’s cleared up, I was just finishing, I’ll leave you to that.”

“ _Bones_ ,” Jim says, stopping Leonard with a hand on his upper arm, “are you avoiding me?”

Leonard scoffs (and possibly spits on Jim). “What? No, of course not.”

Jim frowns. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? I think I’d know if I was avoiding you.”

Jim shakes his head. “Don’t pretend like I’m the one acting crazy here. What’s going on?”

God, Leonard wishes he knew. But even if he does know, Leonard sure as hell isn’t going to say.

“Is this about Jocelyn getting remarried? It’s okay to admit that it bugs you.”

Leonard latches onto the excuse. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he says. Only then he realizes that makes him sound like he’s not over her, which is not the message he wants to send here. “I mean, no, you’re not.”

“Oh-kay...” Jim says.

“I mean, I suppose it’s bothering me a little, but not because I’m not over her or anything. It’s just...”

“Weird,” Jim says. “I get it.”

“Yeah.” Leonard nods.

Jim smiles.

Leonard nods.

Leonard wishes he would stop nodding.

Jim turns like he’s about to hit the weight machines.

Leonard finally stops nodding.

“Do you want to go?” Leonard blurts suddenly.

Jim looks at him again, confused. “Where? I just got here.”

“No, I mean, the wedding. Do you...uh...want to go to Joce’s wedding with me? Like as my...” Leonard chickens out and says, “plus one?”

Jim smiles. “Sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” Leonard finds himself assuring Jim. “I mean, you don’t have to wear your dress uniform or anything.”

“Oh, I’m totally wearing my dress uniform,” Jim says with a grin. “The ladies love the dress uniform.”

Leonard frowns.

Jim misinterprets.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t abandon you or anything. You need moral support and, believe me, I’m gonna support the fuck out you.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Jim grins again and slaps Leonard on the arm. “Anytime, Bones. What’re friends for?”

_Friends._

_Shit._

 

 

Okay, so Leonard needs to find some way out of the friend zone.

Of course, Leonard’s never quite been able to pin down how he and Jim ended up friends in the first place, so he hasn’t got a lot to go on.

Honestly, whatever it was, it was probably mostly Jim. Jim’s just one of those ridiculous people who sets his mind on random goals and then basically acts like they’ve already been reached until people just give in and accept the new reality.

Why Jim settled on the unshaven, aviophobic drunk trying _not_ to sit next to him on the shuttle, Leonard will never know, but before Leonard had even sobered up, Jim had dubbed him ‘Bones’ and decided that they were BFF bonded for life.

And one morning Leonard woke up and they just were.

Somewhere in his distant memory, Leonard thinks he may have resisted at first. Jim was young and pushy and had way too much energy for any _three_ people, let alone one. He had no sense of personal space or boundaries and seemed to hate doing things alone. He didn't even try to stay out of trouble and didn't hesitate to start counting on Leonard to bail him out.

And whenever Leonard tried to refuse to go along with one of Jim's crazy schemes, Jim accused Leonard of ‘hating fun.’

It was damned annoying, is what it was.

Of course, it was also fun.

And then one day Jim took off for some two-day shuttle pilot sim and about six waking hours into Jim's absence, Leonard was bored as hell.

And lonely.

And entertaining himself with stupids quips in his head delivered in a voice that sounded a lot like Jim's.

Basically, Jim Kirk is an earworm. He’s one of those annoying melodies that somehow gets stuck in your head, and you try and try to get rid of it, but just when you think you’ve finally succeeded, you find yourself belting it in the shower. And before you know it, you’ve downloaded the song to your playlist and when it comes up on shuffle, your whole body can’t help but move to its beat.

And you set it on repeat.

Or something like that.

Leonard's a doctor, not a poet.

 

 

Okay, so Leonard is stuck with Jim. And maybe he really doesn't mind so much. Maybe he wants to be more than stuck.

The problem is how to let Jim know. Honestly, there’s not much Leonard would do if he were courting Jim that he and Jim don’t do already.

They take at least half their meals together. They hang out and drink or watch vids in their free time. They touch each other easily and often. Hell, most shore leaves they end up half naked and passed out in each other’s rooms.

Basically, they’re dating. Except for the part where there’s no sex.

And Leonard wants the sex.

A lot.

 

 

Leonard really does look for an opening, but nothing he tries seems to strike Jim as out of the ordinary.

It'd take something pretty damn obvious, he supposes, but using his medical override to enter the captain's quarters and waiting for him stripped naked with nothing but a bright red bow tied around your dick is the kind of thing that can earn you an official reprimand on your permanent record.

Or ruin a friendship.

Because obvious is all well and good...as long as you haven't gotten it all wrong.

 

 

Leonard’s opportunity finally comes in the form of their Earth shore leave. After a couple of days debriefing, they still have about a week before the wedding, and being off the _Enterprise_ means a chance to get a bit of distance from their usual routines.

Only not if they stay in San Francisco. They have old routines to fall back into in San Francisco.

“You should come with me to Georgia,” Leonard says.

Well, _yells_ really, since it’s hard to hear over the live band and the crowd. The core crew just got out of their final briefing together and has decided to celebrate with a drink before going their separate ways in the morning.

“What?” Jim yells back.

“Come with me to Georgia,” Leonard repeats, even louder this time.

“I thought I was,” Jim yells.

Leonard decides a change of method is in order and leans in close to speak against Jim’s year. “Not just for the wedding,” he says, “tomorrow. Come with me tomorrow. Let me show you around.”

Leonard pulls back in time to catch something curious in Jim’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Jim’s voice is soft, but Leonard can read his lips.

 

 

 

“So this is the famous Jim Kirk,” Leonard’s mother says when they arrive.

She’s got that twinkle in her eyes and Leonard wonders how he was the last to know.

 

 

 

When Leonard wakes up the next morning, his mama is cooking up a storm. And it’s not breakfast.

“What’s all this?” Leonard asks, gesturing toward the chicken sizzling in a cast iron skillet on the stove.

“Y’all are going on a picnic today,” she informs him. “Out at the Shorters’ pond.”

It’s a gorgeous and private little spot. All green grass, singing birds and riotous wildflowers. A sugar-coated romantic cliché.

And a notorious make-out location.

Leonard’s mama is giving him a look like she dares him to protest.

But Leonard doesn’t protest. He just offers her a smile and says, “Yes, ma’am.”

 

 

Sadly, there is no making out.

But Jim asks Leonard all about the area and his hometown and his childhood. And Leonard shares more of these things than he thinks he’s ever shared with anybody.

There’s a shift in the air between them, a crackle of electricity between their palms when Leonard offers Jim a hand up as they gather their supplies and start the walk home. For the first time since he was seventeen, Leonard finds himself wondering exactly how he feels about having sex under his mama’s roof.

He hesitates on the front porch, knowing that if he wants to make a change to the sleeping arrangements, this is time to ask. They look at each other and Jim has just opened his mouth like he’s about to say something when they both hear Leonard’s mother cursing a blue streak from inside the house.

They rush inside and find her standing in front of the climate controls in nothing but her bra and a pair of shorts, skin glistening with sweat.

“Mama!” Leonard gasps, scandalized.

But it only takes standing there for another couple of seconds to understand. The house crazy fucking hot.

“Why is the heat on?” Leonard asks. “It’s June!”

“I’m perfectly aware of the month, Leonard Horatio. And that it is sweltering in here. Why the hell else would I be standing in my own damned living room in my underwear cursing like a space pirate when company’s over? I beg your pardon, Jim,” she adds, jabbing rather violently at the climate control pad. “But this fucking thing won’t respond to anything.”

Jim barely manages to cover his laughter with a hand over his mouth and a fake cough. “No apologies necessary, Eleanor. Mind if I take a look?”

“I would be forever in your debt.”

“Nah,” Jim says, “I’m pretty sure I still owe you my firstborn child for the fried chicken you sent us off with today. Now let’s see what I can do.”

Jim quickly finds the catch in the wall that lets him open a panel and get at the home management computer mainframe. He starts fiddling with wires and circuit boards and before Leonard knows it, Jim is without a shirt.

Working hard.

Muscles flexing.

Skin glistening with sweat.

When Leonard catches himself staring, he turns to his mother to see if she’s noticed and catches her doing the exact same thing.

He really could have done without ever seeing his mother ogling his best friend.

“Mama!” he scolds in a harsh whisper.

“What?” she whispers back. “It’s _Captain Kirk_. I may be a widow, but I’m certainly not blind.”

Leonard doesn’t bother to answer. Instead, he goes into the kitchen to catch a breath and fetch Jim a glass of water. By the time he returns, Jim has everything fixed. Jim takes the ice water from Bones’ hand with a grateful smile and downs it all in one big, far-too-sexy gulp.

“Thanks,” Jim says. “Man, I could really use a cold shower.”

“You and me both,” Leonard mutters.

 

 

And so they sleep in their own beds that night. Leonard decides – after his own cold shower – that it’s probably for the best.

This is still his mother’s house, after all.

 

 

 

The next day, they drive into Atlanta. It’s not a long trip, but just far enough for Leonard to suggest they make it an overnight visit and get a hotel room.

Jim’s agreement is swift and sure.

They spend a long afternoon taking in the sights before Leonard leads them to dinner. The place comes highly recommended – by Jocelyn in fact – and Leonard figures if the picnic didn’t tip Jim off, the candlelit table-for-two definitely ought to do the trick.

After a couple of cocktails and a bottle of wine with dinner, Leonard’s feeling pleasantly toasty and it’s easy to let his usual casual touches linger.

Jim definitely isn’t moving away.

Their hands brush, their shoulders bump, they lean into and on each other as they make their way the couple of blocks from the restaurant to the hotel. They’re both smiling as they hurry through the lobby, but before they make it to the lift, Leonard’s comm starts to beep and buzz.

Leonard pulls it out of his pocket and reads the screen. It’s Starfleet Medical’s Atlanta facility. He shoots Jim an apologetic look and answers.

Turns out they’ve just found the second known case of the Paeionte virus in a human. Of course, Leonard just happend to have found the first known case the year before – and cured it. He wrote an article, but they think the virus might have mutated and don’t want to do anything that will let things get worse, and could he come in right away?

How can he say no?

 

 

By the time the situation is under control and Leonard gets back from the medical center, it’s nearly four in the morning and Jim is passed out on one of the room’s double beds.

Leonard kicks off his shoes and collapses onto the other one.

 

 

 

When Leoanrd wakes up – still mostly clothed – the room is pitch black and he’s starving. He opens his eyes and pushes himself into a seated position.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he makes out the faint light of a PADD shining on a face in the corner.

“Jim?” he asks. “Christ, what time is it?”

“About five o’clock,” Jim says.

Leonard blinks. “In the morning?”

“In the afternoon. Windows – half transparency.”

Suddenly the room is bathed in soft summer evening sunlight.

“Oh,” Leonard says. Then: “I could eat a horse.”

Jim stands up and puts down the PADD. “Well, then, let’s go find a place that’s serving one.”

They settle for a steak house.

 

 

As dinner progresses, Leonard is definitely waking up and he’s definitely remembering what he’d been hoping to do the night before, before crisis intervened. He forgoes alcohol, but orders a coffee at the end of the meal. He can feel the caffeine buzzing through his body and he likes it. He’s got hours of energy in him now.

“Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” Leonard says.

“Tired again?” Jim asks.

Leonard shakes his head. “Nope.”

Jim smiles and signals the waiter. “Check, please.”

 

 

Leonard swears they’re at the exact same place in the lobby when his comm goes off again. “God damn it, don’t they know I’m on vacation?” he asks as he pulls it out, but the caller ID surprises him. “Huh, it’s Jocelyn.” He looks up at Jim. “I’d better...”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

At first, Jocelyn’s talking so fast, it’s hard to make out individual words, but after a minute or so, Leonard definitely gets the gist: Last minute wedding details are consuming her life and Clay’s, too, and if Leonard could just take Joanna for the next two nights before the wedding, she’d be so very grateful...

“Of course,” Leonard says, because he never doesn’t want to see Joanna and because he remembers what the days before their own wedding were like. And, hell, if he’s waited six years to get here with Jim, he can probably make it two more nights. Maybe. “We can pick her up in twenty minutes.”

When Jocelyn opens the door and finds Jim standing next to Leonard on the porch, she shakes Jim’s hand and then gives Leonard a hug.

“ _The_ Captain Kirk,” she whispers. “Well, done.”

Leonard doesn’t bother telling her he hasn’t yet sealed the deal.

 

 

When they get back to the hotel with Joanna in tow, Jim rents his own room down the hall.

It’s the right thing to do, but it sucks.

 

 

If Leonard (and apparently everyone Leonard’s ever met) didn’t already know he was in love with Jim, he would have found out that next day.

Jim is wonderful with Joanna, conversing at her level without talking down to her, taking a genuine interest in her thoughts and ideas. And of course there’s that childlike enthusiasm that Leonard knows Jim doesn’t even have to fake.

They make a trip to the zoo and tour the various humane habitats, oohing and awing at the various animals, earth-based and alien. Jim seems to have some special knowledge of almost every species and Joanna sucks it all up like a sponge, blessing both Jim and Leonard with her wide eyes and bright smiles.

As Jim offers yet another rundown of yet another species, it occurs to Leonard that _Jim_ was the one who suggested this trip to the zoo.

“Did you _study_ for this?” Leonard asks while Joanna’s in the bathroom.

Jim steals a bite of the Jo’s cotton candy, which he’s holding for her. “Now why would I do a thing like that?”

Which is Jim for ‘yes.’

 

 

The next day, Leonard puts on the new suit he picked up in San Francisco and helps Joanna tie the bow on the back of her flower-girl dress. He’s trying to help her pin up her hair – with success so limited it can’t even be called ‘success’ – when Jim chimes at their door.

“Come in,” Leonard calls, distracted, only to have his breath stolen away by the sight of Jim in his dress uniform.

Jim doesn’t seem to notice. “What’s happening here?” he asks.

Joanna rolls her eyes. “Dad’s _trying_ to do my hair.”

Jim laughs. "Step aside, Bones. I’ve got this."

 

 

Leonard isn't sure he _wants_ to know how exactly Jim Kirk became an expert on styling women's hair.

 

 

Joanna is delivered to the wedding venue on time and looking beautiful. Leonard tears up a little as she walks down the aisle – scattering white magnolia petals along the red runner – and Jim squeezes his hand.

Jim squeezes Leonard’s hand again as the vows are exchanged, but Leonard’s not sure he needs it. The ceremony has all the elegance Leonard would expect from Jocelyn, but also a sweetness and sincerity Leonard hasn't seen from her in a long time.

He's happy for her – without reservation.

 

 

As the reception begins, Leonard and Jim get separated when Leonard finds himself trapped in a series of conversations with former in-laws and assorted acquaintances. His mama raised Leonard right enough to be polite and charming in these sorts of settings, but it’s damned frustrating to have to make over an hour of awkward small talk when all he really wants is to dance with Jim.

Eventually, Leonard manages to pawn Jocelyn’s Aunt Mimsy and her hypochondria off on an old rival from his hospital residency and make his escape. When he spots Jim on the other side of the ballroom, the dress uniform seems to be doing its trick because The Great Captain Kirk is surrounded by admirers.

Jim is holding court, as usual, smiling, laughing and telling entertaining tales of his wild adventures through time and space. Several of the women surrounding him seem on the verge of a good old-fashioned Southern swoon.

Leonard vomits a little in his mouth and hovers a bit away from the crowd, looking for a good moment to break in.

Before he finds one, Jim has taken one of the women out for a spin on the dance floor. That woman is followed by another and then another. By the time five songs (and five women) have passed, Leonard has lost his patience. As Jim steps off the dance floor, Leonard pushes his way (politely) through the crowd.

“Jim,” he says, “can I talk to you?”

Jim smiles at him. “Sure, Bones, but can it wait a second? I promised Crickett here the next dance.”

Leonard bites his tongue as Jim takes Crickett’s hand and leads her out onto the dance floor. Who the hell names their daughter Crickett these days, anyway?

Leonard makes it through about half a song of Jim whispering sweet nothings into Crickett’s ear before he storms (politely) onto the dance floor and (politely) asks Crickett through gritted teeth if he may cut in.

Crickett does not look pleased, but (politely) vacates Jim’s arms, allowing Leonard to take her place. Leonard takes one of Jim’s hands in his, places the other on his back, and starts some very tense swaying.

Jim frowns as he sways along. “Everything okay, Bones?”

Leonard frowns right back. “Actually, I'm feeling pretty stupid right now.”

“What? Why?”

“I'm not a mysterious man, am I?”

“Well,” Jim quips, “the whole buddy thing you and Spock have going lately is a bit perplexing...”

Leonard doesn’t laugh. “I think I've been very, very clear with my intentions–”

“Your _intentions_ …?”

“You know,” Leonard says, still shuffling his feet and trying not to raise his voice, “the wedding invite, the picnic, the fancy dinner.”

Jim chuckles, trying to ease the tension. “Bones...”

“You _knew_ what I was doing,” Leonard growls.

“Well, no, not officially...”

“Not officially?” Leonard can feel his eyebrows jumping and jiving of their own accord. “Oh, come on. I mean, I didn't file any Fleet paperwork, but other than that...”

They’re not really moving anymore, just standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Well, you could have said,” Jim begins.

“What was I supposed to say?” Leonard asks. “I did things. I let my actions speak. That's what you're supposed to do. Your supposed to let your actions speak. That's the romantic way to do this, damn it.”

Jim looks confused. “Uh, Bones, you do realize that I’m pretty easy, right?”

Leonard ignores him. “And you went along with all of it. So, naturally, I assumed we were on the same page, and then here you are at my ex-wife’s wedding trying to take home a girl named after an insect.”

Jim holds up a hand. “Whoa, take home? Who said I was trying to take anybody home?”

“You were flirting!” Leonard whisper-yells.

Jim still looks confused. “Of course I was flirting. It’s my default mode. Like breathing.”

“Does _Crickett_ know that?”

“Probably, yeah.” Jim puts a hand on Leonard’s arm. “Bones, just calm down for a second.”

“I don't want to calm down,” Leonard snaps, though he’s still keeping his voice low. “I did everything right. I did _exactly_ what Orlov said.”

“Who the hell is Orlov?”

“I thought we were on track, and now you're standing there looking at me like I'm crazy.”

“Um...you’re kinda _acting_ crazy.”

“Do you know the last time I introduced someone to my mother and daughter? Never. That's when. Very easy stat to remember.”

“I loved meeting your mother and daughter.” Jim is whisper-yelling now, too.

“And when we went back to the hotel after dinner the other night, I could’ve sworn we were about to...”

“We were,” Jim says. “We totally were.”

Leonard looks at Jim – really looks at him. He leans closer.

“What’re you doing?” Jim whisper-whispers.

“Will you just shut up?” Leonard grumbles.

He tugs Jim close and kisses him.

Jim kisses back for a second, then pulls away, blinking. After half a second, Jim leans back in.

“What are you doing?” Leonard asks.

“Will you just shut up?” Jim mutters.

He slides a hand up over Leonard’s shoulder to cup the back of Leonard’s neck and pulls him into a longer, deeper kiss.

Leonard thinks there’s a love song playing, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t the one playing when they started dancing. They’re probably making a spectacle of themselves and this is supposed to be someone else’s big day. He wraps his arms around Jim and starts them swaying again.

For a moment, he can even make out the lyrics and suddenly they don’t sound so bad. Leonard used to think he’d had enough of silly love songs, but that was before Jim Kirk got stuck in his head.

“Fuck,” Leonard mutters against Jim’s ear, “first the broken climate control, then that damned emergency, then Joanna...”

“Shit, I know,” Jim agrees. “It was like a fucking conspiracy.”

“And now we’ve got Joanna with us for the next three weeks...”

“Us?” Jim repeats. “You want me to stick around?”

“Of course I want you to stick around, you ass. That’s what this was all about.” Leonard hesitates. “Unless you don’t want to...”

“Of course I want to, you idiot.” Jim puts his mouth even closer against Leonard’s ear. “But about that other thing...”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Joanna’s got plenty of relatives to look after her right now and this place has amazing bathrooms...”

“God, yes,” Leonard says, already starting to tug Jim toward the ballroom doors. “I knew there was a reason that it’s you.”

 

_FIN._


End file.
